


Dreams From Beneath

by Gnb_rules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x09, AU within Canon, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnb_rules/pseuds/Gnb_rules
Summary: Angels don't dream. But Cas does. Or maybe he hallucinates. Maybe it doesn't matter when he's more than six feet under for all eternity. Cas (Mark of Cain Cas AU)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Dreams From Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The future Chuck showed Sam in 15x09. Or is it?

**i.**

Angels don't dream. But Cas does. Or maybe he hallucinates. Maybe it doesn't matter when he's more than six feet under for all eternity.

He dreams of the bunker, always the bunker. Movie night. Jack, alive and smiling. Sam's long legs reclined on his chair, stretched and comfortable and calm, a hand in Eileen's hair.

Dean -

Dean. Green eyes shiny, shimmering, happy. Fast forward. The movie is over. Sam, Eileen and Jack go to bed. He's about to say goodnight to Dean as well, but then, but then, but then.

"Cas."

It echoes. And then Dean reaches for him, his palm settling on the nape of Cas's neck, pulling him close, lips bridging the gap. A tingling down Cas's spine. Joy. "Come to bed, Cas," Dean says. A whisper, a plea. A prayer.

And he goes, of course he goes. _I'd follow you anywhere, don't you now that by now, Dean?_

Except, except, except. It never happened like that. At least, he's pretty sure it didn't. Not real. Maybe none of it was.

**ii.**

Another dream, this one a nightmare.

He bore the Mark well. Dean knew Cas, knew The Mark, knew how to soothe - not his soul, of course, since he doesn't have one - but his entire being.

It worked so well. Yet so briefly.

It all starts and ends with the vampires. It all starts and ends with Claire.

Her death opens the floodgates of burning hatred, his insides become an empty chasm to be filled with bodies and blood. Dean sees his look and, for once, is the reasonable brother. _You cannot hunt them, Cas._ _Let us go, we'll take care of it._

Cas ignores him.

Dean looks to Sam for support. Sam says nothing - his eyes are full of that familiar wrathful vengeance, and Cas finds solace in that. They hunt together, him and Sam.

Simple beheadings are not enough for the angel. Cas puts his fist through their skulls first. Even the little one, with the face of a child but the fangs of a monster.

Sam, never the queasy type, nearly gags when he sees the body.

"He was so young, Cas. Maybe we could have helped him change."

Castiel looks at him and for a second there's a black film over his eyes and he cannot recognize Sam. He thinks he may be a monster too. Maybe they all are. Maybe they all deserve to end.

The next morning, Cas begs Dean to put him in the box.

Dean stubborn, resolute. Shoves him against a wall. Cas thinks there may have been tears slipping down his face. "Please don't make me," he says. "I need you," he says. Three words that have always stood in for those other three words Dean still can't say. Cas wonders if it would matter. Knows it doesn't.

They go on.

**iii.**

A few more incidents on the job. He's enjoying the kill too much, more than he ever had before, they say. They don't like it.

They try not to take him on hunts anymore. He sneaks out while they sleep and hunts anyway. Vampires fall, bloody and brutal. Werewolves torn apart. Whispers of the Dark Angel float through the monster community. He doesn't mind. Let them be afraid for once.

They all go to a diner one day. There's a man groping the blonde waitress. She's too scared and young to protest. Younger than Claire is. Was.

Cas is on him before Sam or Dean can get there. A hand to his throat. Eyes bulging. Someone screaming. Sam and Dean manage to rip him away. Cops are called and they flee before they can be arrested.

"We have to do something about this, Cas."

Bitter words from the backseat of the Impala. "I know. I told you what to do, Dean. I begged you to do it."

Dean says nothing. Sam says nothing.

**iv.**

Fast forward.

Eileen dies. He didn't kill her. At least, he doesn't think he did. He's not sure. It's been years, right? He can't be expected to remember everyone he ever put in the ground.

Put in the ground.

Another dream. He's fighting Dean to a bloody end. They waited too long and he can't remember why he asked Dean for this. He doesn't want to be buried in this tight little box. The Mark is hungry. Dean's blood is on his fist. They've done this before.

Naomi.

No, wrong. Not this time. No Naomi. No Chuck. This is all Castiel, fallen Angel of the Lord.

"Cas, please."

The nickname breaks through. Just briefly. Long enough for Dean to reach out to him.

And shove him backward into the box.

The snap of the lid closing. He's heard the sound a million times this century. It's all Cas ever hears.

Dean's voice, muffled through the metal. "I'll find a way, Cas. I swear I'll find a way and come back for you."

For a second, he's Cas, Dean's Cas, again. He remembers all the best of his life. Jack. Claire. The Winchesters. He cries then, even though angels don't cry. "Dean?"

All sound and movement outside the box stop. He knows Dean's listening. _I'm sorry I love you I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. I love you I love you I love you. I'm sorry._ Instead he says, "Don't come back for me."

Dean doesn't answer.

There's movement eventually, and then the sound of machinery. He's jostled. He knows the thunking sound of dirt when it hits the box, then everything else is quiet, muted. He's in the ground now and he can't remember if Dean even said goodbye. He knows for sure that Sam wasn't even there, but he doesn't know why. Maybe Cas did kill Eileen, after all.

**v.**

Cas loses track of time, and sense, and sanity. The Mark still hungers for blood. He pounds his fist against the metal until his knuckles are raw. They would heal themselves, if he ever went long enough to let them.

He dreams of Dean with a wife and child at his knee. It's a good dream, a happy one, but he punches the box again. Doesn't know why.

There's a snake in the box. It curls around his legs, slithers across his chest, wraps around his neck. He's not sure how it got in, and wonders if it's the same one Jack killed a lifetime ago. It seems fitting that they should share an ending. Put down by those that cared for them.

He used to be able to keep track of time, however relative it seemed. He knew millennia, and felt the years and even noticed when the humans did the arbitrary changing of their clocks. Now minutes could be days and hours could be months.

He prays that the Winchesters got to live fully and die of old age, but he knows the chances aren't high. _They're gone,_ a voice whispers. Sometimes it sounds like his own voice, mostly it sounds like Lucifer, occasionally it sounds like Chuck. "Go to hell," he tells his brother, but Lucifer just laughs.

"Already there, pal," he says.

"Go to hell," he tell his father, but Chuck never has a response to that.

**vi.**

There's a trembling around him. An earthquake. Not the first he's felt, but certainly the strongest. It moves him, tilts him, jostles him. He's upright, or upside down, or sideways now. Impossible to tell. There's a mechanical screeching. Voices, maybe. He knows it's all in his head.

The lid opens. Too bright. He closes his eyes. Hands on him, shaking him. "We found a way, Cas. I told you I'd come back for you."

He forces his eyes open. It's Dean. Sam and Jack stand behind him, cautious smiles on their faces. Eileen's there too, anxious. None of them look as old as they should be all these years later, except maybe Jack with his eternal youth.

"Cas."

It echoes. And then Dean reaches for him, his palm settling on the nape of Cas's neck, pulling him close, lips bridging the gap. A tingling down Cas's spine. Joy. "Time to come home, Cas," Dean says. A whisper, a plea. A prayer.

Cas smiles softly. Closes his eyes again. He likes this dream.


End file.
